


3 Christmast Present fics - Dutch courage, Promises, and January

by Paraxdisepink



Category: Hornblower (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Live Kennedy Universe, M/M, Prison Sex, Sex Toys
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-03-21
Updated: 2013-03-21
Packaged: 2017-12-05 23:57:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,974
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/729354
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Paraxdisepink/pseuds/Paraxdisepink
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written as requests, but they go together.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Dutch Courage

“Horatio . . .” Archie complained breathlessly through another bout of silvery, high-  
pitched laughter, straightening after losing his footing. “The floorboards won’t lie still.”

This was the second time Archie had voiced that particular complaint. Horatio suspected his friend would do so once more before reaching their room; in fact, he hoped so, that way Archie’s complaints would amount to precisely half the number of ales he had imbibed and Horatio liked it when things divided into even halves. Perhaps if Archie made other complaints at consistent ratios then a new theorem could be invented. The Hornblower theorem . . . . Horatio smiled, liking the idea almost as much as the thought of making Captain. 

He stopped thinking about mathematics, however, when Archie stumbled again not a yet fathom from the top of the stairs. It was a wonder he had made it that far, staggering all the way from the common room and wheezing with laughter each time he tripped. He would not laugh if he ended up facedown on the floor – and Horatio feared Archie would if he was not careful – but somehow Archie always managed to catch himself at the last moment, push himself up, and teeter on. 

Their room was halfway down the hall and would be a bit of a journey. Archie gauged the distance with squared shoulders and a stubbornly set jaw, but then spoiled the dignity of his displeasure by frowning sullenly at the floor where he had nearly fallen a moment ago. 

“That board tripped me,” Archie said, pointing. “On purpose, Horatio.” 

Horatio stopped, sternly regarding the offending board, clasping his hands behind his back the way Captain Pellew did when chastening his men. This gross disrespect could not be tolerated. “You must be firm with them, Archie,” Horatio advised. “In battle such disorderly behavior could be disastrous. I would report this misconduct to Captain Pellew at once.” 

Archie turned to him slowly. Horatio expected him to inquire what punishment might be prescribed – Archie did not study the Articles as diligently as he – but his friend only widened his glazed blue eyes and then erupted so violently into laughter that he nearly fell again. 

“Horatio, you’re drunk!” he declared to the hall at large. 

Heat crept into Horatio’s cheeks and he found himself bristling at the indignity of Archie’s accusation. An officer must never suffer indignity and a gentleman must not accuse. Besides, he was not the one tripping over his own feet. He had only drank as many ales as Archie because drinking on leave was apparently the customary thing for a midshipman to do and he did not want any of the men thinking less of him when he returned to the _Indi_ e tomorrow. 

Not wanting to hear anymore about it, Horatio put an arm around Archie’s shoulders, steering him in the direction of their room. “That’s enough dawdling,” he chided, hoping he sounded at least half as authoritative as Captain Pellew. 

His heart sank on that score when Archie continued giggling under his breath, but at least his friend was cooperating, moving forward on unsteady feet. Horatio had to wrap his arm tight and keep Archie close so he would not fall again, but he did not mind, he liked Archie’s warm, sturdy body against his own and the feel of Archie’s strong arm slung around his waist for balance. His friend was hot now from drinking and the awareness of that heat made Horatio strangely giddy; he led them faster toward their door, eager to be behind it. 

Archie took his arm away after Horatio slid the bolt home, stepping around to face him, tilting up his flushed face and his bright blue eyes. Horatio’s gaze dropped to Archie’s perfect rosy mouth, his prick stirring at the sight, and then Archie had both hands in his hair, tugging his head down and crushing their lips together. 

He kissed like he was starving, and Horatio briefly wondered why Archie had wasted an hour getting drunk downstairs if he was so hungry and impatient to be alone. But perhaps Archie thought it better to be drunk first – Archie had got drunk the last time they were ashore and had brought a flask of brandy back to their room earlier. Something ailed Archie, something Archie would never reveal or admit to, and so Horatio did not fault him for needing added courage to be intimate. But privately Horatio worried that the liquor was not good for Archie’s falling sickness. 

Perhaps he was not so brave himself if he let his thoughts distract from the fact that Archie was kissing him. It was frightening, the thought of a man *kissing* him – the thought of kissing anyone was frightening – but when Horatio gave over to the erotic sensation of being kissed he wondered how he could have been distracted at all. Archie’s mouth was hot and moist like ripe fruit, small but hard against his, demanding. 

Not knowing what else to do, Horatio yielded to it, pressing his palms against the door – his path of retreat if necessary. His head bumped softly against the wood when Archie thrust his wet tongue inside like a hungry serpent, each little stroke sending a stab of pleasure into Horatio’s gut. Horatio groaned, everything spinning, and after a moment he did not want to retreat anymore. He took one hand away and cradled the back of Archie’s head, and then wrapped his other arm around Archie’s body, pulling him close and feeling something invisible sizzle between them, something dangerous that Horatio had never imagined possible until meeting Archie Kennedy. 

They had kissed before. On their last leave Archie had got blind drunk and had initiated a game of wrestling back in their room. They had tussled and struggled and panted until Archie had pinned Horatio down and kissed him hard on the mouth. At first Horatio thought Archie had only been trying to shock him, resorting to underhanded tactics only to win the game, but then Horatio had felt his friend’s tongue in his mouth and his heart beating fast. Archie had lain too long upon his body; their responses had become obvious to one another and the rest of the night had passed in awkwardness. Horatio had heard Archie hastily ridding himself of an erection beneath the covers and know that Archie had heard his own ashamed sobbing as he had done likewise. 

The awkwardness had been short-lived, however. Archie had lured him to the Indie’s orlop a few days later, and they had kissed as though it were the most natural thing in the world. And then Horatio had lured him there only a day after, gathering Archie against his body and savoring his little pink mouth until Archie seemed to weaken in his arms. Archie liked the kissing. Sometimes Horatio would glimpse him in his hammock, grinning to himself, thinking about it, and sometimes in the night Horatio would hear Archie’s breathing quicken and he would blush, knowing what his friend was doing beneath the blankets. But Horatio did not blush so much anymore; sometimes Archie would reach down and do it while they kissed. 

When Archie pulled away for air, Horatio felt strangely clear-headed, too aware of the stirring between his legs and how he wanted Archie back against him. Then he opened his eyes and everything felt muddled again. Archie was looking at him, his mouth a deep pink and his eyes hot, expectant. His gold hair was tousled and he was panting. Finally he took a step back and announced, “I want to lie down.” 

Horatio nodded, assuming the ale had made him dizzy, but evidently that was not what Archie had meant. He waited a moment, decided something, and then toed out of his shoes and shrugged his jacket off. Horatio remained there stupidly with his back to the door, understanding that there was a move to be made yet failing to see what it was. He watched as Archie divested one garment after another, stockings and all, his throat drying at the sight of Archie naked. 

He had seen Archie naked before, but it felt criminal and uncomfortably perverse to be naked alone together now and not simply about the business of washing or dressing with the other men. Horatio could not help but admire the solid lines of his friend’s body, his wide rounded shoulders, his pert backside, and his strong thighs, wondering what it would be like to lie between them. This time, Horatio did blush, thinking it wrong to have such lecherous thoughts. A sick wave rolled inside his stomach that had nothing to do with the liquor. 

With a quiet huff, Archie laid himself on the bed, still unsteady from drink by the way his hands clutched the sheets for balance. Their eyes met across the small room and for a moment Horatio was overtaken with something tremendous, something he could not fight off. His gaze slipped and he saw that his friend was half hard between his legs, his cock flushed against his stomach in a bed of golden curls. Horatio cleared his throat and Archie huffed again, impatient. 

“Well, come on.” Archie’s lashes fluttered, a gesture Horatio had learned to take for nervousness. Horatio also understood that Archie wanted him to undress and join him in bed. He moved to obey without thinking too hard on what might happen there. Perhaps he had drunk too much after all, for he thought that he should panic at the possibilities. 

Unfastening buttons and laces, Horatio revealed inch after inch of his body to the chill night air, Archie’s hot gaze burning his skin all the while. Strangely, that did not unnerve him. Far from it, the desire and admiration in Archie’s eyes sent him soaring with secret elation, like the day Captain Pellew had handed him Simpson’s division, only better. 

Nearly tripping out of his stocking, Horatio settled onto the mattress beside his friend. The bed was narrow, but Archie stretched out comfortably, turning to him and grinning. Stark heat scorched Horatio’s cheeks. They had never been naked in such close proximity; he tensed when their thighs rubbed together – Archie’s muscular and covered with soft downy hair, and his thin and pale. 

Now that he was lying down, Horatio did not feel so steady as before. The room whirled and his head felt painfully light. Damn the ale; his skin itched with heat where gooseflesh should have covered it. Archie kept grinning, at what Horatio did not know. He only knew that he was going mad, raking his gaze over Archie’s nakedness – his blue eyes, his dusky nipples, and his blushing half swollen cock – gorging himself in secret lecherous gluttony. He was perverse and Archie was lewd for displaying himself like that. Horatio bit his lip, trying to avert his eyes. 

“Well it’s no proper bedchamber, but it’s a bit more comfortable than the orlop,” Archie was saying in regards to the bed. He then curled closer against Horatio’s shoulder, laying a hand on his chest. Something intense shone out from his eyes that made him seem to glow turquoise, red-gold, and fine alabaster. “I’ve been waiting,” he whispered. 

Waiting for what? Horatio wanted to ask, but knew that would sound stupid. Besides, Archie gave him no chance; he cupped Horatio’s cheek and then they were kissing again. This time Archie made little sounds against his mouth, hungry, muffled moans that shot sharp pangs between Horatio’s legs. Instinctively, Horatio slid his arms around Archie’s shoulders, drawing their bodies together. 

Archie slid flush on top of him without breaking contact with Horatio’s mouth. They both groaned then, their smooth hot skin sliding together, pounding chests and soft bellies, hot thighs and even hotter pricks. Archie still smelled of the soap from their earlier bath, the liquor, and something else heady and intoxicating. Horatio bent his knees to bring Archie even closer, heart racing that they might finally do more than kiss. Already, he liked the silky feel of Archie’s balls against his and the sturdy weight of Archie’s body pressing him into the mattress. 

They were both panting raggedly when they broke off kissing to breathe, the air thick and hot as smoke between them. Archie lifted his head just enough to look down into Horatio’s eyes, his hot blue gaze burning Horatio’s skin where he thought he could melt against Archie already. Archie’s pink tongue swept over his lips and he hoarsely whispered, “I want you.” 

Horatio wanted to shake his head and say that they could not, but he was evidently drunker than he thought; he seized a fistful of red-gold hair, crushing their mouths together again. Archie shuddered in his arms and with another choked sound almost like a sob began rubbing frantically against Horatio’s body. 

He froze – they had never done anything like this before – and then clutched Archie’s shoulders tighter as the friction spread tingles through his skin. He raised his knees, wrapping his long legs around Archie’s wider body, twitching when the wet head of his friend’s cock pushed against his arse. For a moment, Horatio wanted to throw his head back, spread his legs, and cry out “please,” but caution got the better of him and he pushed at Archie’s shoulders, bristling with shame. 

“We can’t do this,” he said. The Articles strictly forbade penetration and ejaculation between men; they could be found out and shamed before Captain Pellew, who would be forced to hang them. 

For a moment Archie did not answer, rolling onto his back and catching his breath in rapid, shallow gasps. He was biting his lip and his features were set, fighting back the pain between his legs where he had been denied release. Horatio wanted to touch him, kiss him again, but did not think that would help. 

“Who would know?” Archie shook his head when he could speak again, fraught and impatient. “We’re alone.” 

“Yes, but –“ 

“But you want to?” Archie interrupted, his eyes upon Horatio again, too knowing for lies so Horatio nodded. The desire for consummation may be dishonorable, but telling the truth was not, and that truth evidently pleased his friend; Archie’s lips quirked into a faint smile and a little glint of mischief entered his eyes. “I brought this, in case you wanted to.” 

Reaching under the pillow, he produced a small jar of salve. Horatio’s color rose, knowing the purpose the ointment would serve, and for a moment dared to imagine Archie inside him. But then he remembered the consequences and went cold. 

“We can’t. If we were held under suspicion we could be examined by the ship’s doctor.” Horatio’s stomach turned at the thought of Hepplewhite peering and probing, and worse all the men knowing. “I couldn’t bear it, Archie.” 

His friend was biting his lip again, his lids fluttering. Looking down at his own hand worrying the edge of the sheet, Archie softly said, “I would let you, if you wanted.” 

Horatio stilled. Did he want that? He did not know. He did not wish to hurt or debase Archie for his own perverse desires. The point was moot in any case. “We can’t,” he insisted yet again, turning his head away. 

He heard Archie sigh, and then mutter, “It would only hurt anyway.” 

The remark stung, though Horatio did not know why. He was clumsy and inexperienced and likely the worst lover in the world. Still, he had hoped that Archie would at least imagine the act to be good with him. 

“Archie . . .” Horatio could think of nothing else to say, unsure of whether he was apologizing or admonishing. He laid his head on his friend’s warm chest – they could do that at least – sighing when Archie draped an arm around him. 

“You’ll have to do something about that,” Archie said after a moment, nudging his knee toward Horatio’s lap. 

Horatio nodded, his cheeks stinging. The ache between his legs had begun to hurt. He rolled away from Archie and started to pull the blankets up over him, thinking to take care of the throbbing after Archie put the candle out. It was late; Archie should fall asleep soon enough. 

But Archie evidently had no intention of sleeping just yet; he slid an arm around Horatio’s waist, pressing close against his back. “I want to watch,” Archie murmured, his mouth under Horatio’s ear. “I’ve never seen you come off.” 

Something quickened inside Horatio’s body, both mortified and excited by the lewd request. But he could only blush and shake his head, nearly paralyzed by the heat of Archie against him and the warm breath tickling the back of his neck. “Archie . . .” He had seen his friend abuse himself before, but never naked, never to climax. This was indecent. 

“You’re so tense.” Archie squeezed his shoulder with his free hand, rubbing his cheek in Horatio’s hair. “Here.” He pulled away and picked up the brandy flask, a rueful smile on his face. “Half of this and nothing will matter, Horatio.” 

For a moment, Horatio stared at the flask. Archie was beginning to sound like Clayton. That was strange; Archie hardly drank aboard ship, but tonight he seemed determined to be as far out of his wits as possible. Well, it was shore leave. Horatio supposed some degree of debauchery could be excused. 

The stuff burned when Horatio drank it down, stronger than grog. His face tingled and his lips went numb. He sank back against the pillow after he’d had enough, the room spinning all over again. Archie wrapped both arms around him this time, nuzzling under Horatio’s ear. 

“Close your eyes,” he said, rubbing a hand over Horatio’s chest, where his heart pounded. Then Archie’s arms tightened and he murmured, “Horatio, I want to bugger you. I can’t help myself.” 

A little tremor overtook Horatio’s body. His cock leapt. “I want the same,” he breathed out, his voice thick with the pain of that longing. His mind was muddled, fixing on the idea of Archie’s hot prick up his arse. He could feel Archie hard against the small of his back, but . . . “What do you suppose it’d feel like?” He wondered aloud with very ungentlemanly curiosity. 

Archie reached behind him again. A moment later he thrust one of the spare candles from the night table under Horatio’s nose. “It would be like this, only bigger,” Archie told him with a laugh Horatio recognized as mischievous. “Well, fatter anyway,” he conceded, given that the thing was rather long. 

“Archie . . .” Horatio admonished for no real reason, almost sorry he had asked. They were both drunk, for Horatio paused to consider the potential circumference of the human anus and that of something at least the twice the size of the candle Archie held. But he stopped himself. This was absurd. 

Chuckling, Archie set the thing down next to the salve jar. He buried his face in Horatio’s neck and then slid his mouth along Horatio’s shoulder in feather-light kisses that had Horatio closing his eyes and sighing, relaxing in Archie’s arms.. 

“I like your cock,” Archie said out of nowhere. “It isn’t ugly or small.” 

Horatio grimaced, embarrassed. “It’s just a cock.” His hand idly wandered down, curling around his own hard flesh and assessing its shape and texture, wondering how a standard of beauty could be attached to such a thing. But then the pressure of his touch increased, his breath coming faster; it felt good to stroke himself pressed back against Archie’s hot chest. 

“I want to touch it,” Archie went on, lazily suckling the delicate skin behind Horatio’s ear. Horatio shivered in delight, his hand moving a little faster. “I might even kiss it or lick it. Would you like that, Horatio?” His tongue flicked suggestively across Horatio’s earlobe, one hand drifting over his chest, finding a nipple and circling there with the pad of one finger. 

Sharp pleasure twisted inside Horatio’s belly. He squeezed at himself; he had never been touched like that before. “You know where that would lead,” he choked out dryly, breathing roughly now. 

Releasing his earlobe, Archie laughed and then leaned down to bite Horatio’s shoulder, his lips hot and wet, his teeth deliciously sharp, drawing a groan. “I’d play with it while I had mine inside you,” he whispered, his free hand scratching gently across the taut skin of Horatio’s belly, so close to his cock. “You’d be so hard, Horatio . . .” 

The image seared him. Horatio could imagine himself on his hands and knees with Archie crouched behind him, thrusting into him in a carnal frenzy, *filling* him while his hand crept down. He grasped harder at his prick, but suddenly the pleasure there was not enough; he wanted to be filled and plundered, to surrender everything. 

“Archie . . .” Horatio strained against his friend’s chest, dropping his head back. Archie thrust forward against his body, his prick jutting between Horatio’s thighs. He squeezed them together – the Greeks did it that way – sliding back and forth around Archie’s hard length, but that only made his balls tingle and Horatio wanted to be filled all the more. If he could not have Archie inside him then he had to have _something_. 

He groped for the salve jar, pushing off the lid and digging his fingers into the stuff. Both the brandy and this talk of buggery had maddened him. Horatio found the candle next, spreading the salve over its length, and holding his breath, he brought the thing down between his legs. 

He was too clumsy to hold it; his hand shook when the tip touched his entrance, aware of Archie’s eyes on him and ashamed under the haze of liquor. But then Archie’s hand moved down, gripping Horatio’s thigh and gently folding his leg up against his chest, opening him enough to let the candle inside. 

“Here.” Archie took the thing from him, and before Horatio had the chance to move or speak he felt its cold hard length begin to penetrate his body. 

It did not stay cold for long; the heat of his body warmed it, and then Archie began thrusting it inside him. Horatio’s hand returned to his cock, and together they fell into a rhythm, thrusting and stroking and rubbing in pleasure. 

Then something happened inside him. Warm currents spread through Horatio’s blood, along his spine, different from the pleasure in his cock. He pulled his knee tighter against his chest and the sensation intensified into something sweet and delicious. “Oh God.” He squeezed and tugged at himself, rocking against the hard length inside him, slamming his eyes shut and throwing his head back against Archie’s shoulder, knowing he would not last long. “Fuck me, Archie. _Fuck_ me,” he begged in abandon, all reason and awareness of dignity crumbled to pieces. 

Archie swore behind him, rubbing his body faster against Horatio’s back until Horatio felt hot liquid splatter across his buttocks. But the hardness inside Horatio did not stop moving; Archie worked the thing with a steady hand until Horatio’s every muscle tensed, his body awash in delicious heat before he arched up and let go, shuddering and spilling his seed with a long, choked moan. 

Horatio lay breathless and incoherent when it was over, panting while everything around him reeled, his skin itching with sweat. He did not care about that or the mess on his belly; he only wanted to cling to the warm, peaceful afterglow and the memory of pleasure, too drained to do anything else. 

“I’ll wash this,” he heard Archie say, and then trembled in aftershock when Archie gently withdrew the candle from his body. Horatio said nothing as Archie rose from the bed and went over to the washbasin the innkeeper had provided for shaving, but he smiled when his friend came back and put his arms around him, keeping them both warm as they drifted off to sleep. 

~ 

They did not sleep long. Horatio guessed a half hour at most. His head still felt light and empty from the brandy and when he rolled onto his back the room whirled before his eyes. He blinked and then turned to Archie beside him. His friend was still asleep, sprawled on his back with his head to one side, his hair a pool of gold around him. 

The candle still lay upon his chest. Horatio smiled, still tingling inside from the melting pleasure and the explosive climax. It had felt so damned good that his body stirred all over again to remember it. He rolled to face Archie, wanting to lie against his warm chest and hear Archie’s soft voice in his ear. Leaning half on top of his body, Horatio cupped his cheek, stroking the soft warm skin until Archie’s lids fluttered. 

“Wake up, sleepy,” Horatio whispered, his mouth against Archie’s mouth. Archie groaned in protest, shifting under him, but Horatio captured his mouth before Archie could tell him to go back to sleep. 

Archie surrendered to him, sinking into the pillow and parting his soft lips with a quiet whimper; Horatio did not think he had ever seen Archie so relaxed, but found himself strangely aroused by his trusting passivity. He slipped his tongue into Archie’s mouth and they kissed more slowly than they had ever kissed, with no real urgency, only quiet warmth building between them. Archie broke the kiss to trail his mouth along Horatio’s jaw, and following suit Horatio sucked gently down one side of Archie’s neck, repeatedly reminding himself that he must confine his passions to kissing and could not sneak a hand down and play with Archie’s cock as he wanted to. 

They stopped to catch their breath, and when Horatio dizzily opened his eyes again he found Archie peering up at him, holding the candle in one hand. “I want to try,” he said quietly, almost in a whisper. 

“All right.” Horatio sat up, fumbling for the salve jar. Finding it, he coated the candle and then took hold of his friend’s thighs, easing them apart. Archie went tense under his hands, his eyes slamming shut. Horatio shook his head at himself for a fool, remembering how nervous he had been. He snatched the brandy flask from the table and put it to Archie’s lips. “Here.” The liquor would make Archie light-headed and giddy as it had made him. Archie would forget his nervousness and then Horatio could share the pleasure he had discovered, though it did not seem right that Archie should need to drink so much in order to relax. 

Archie took one long gulp and then another, thirsty for it. But then he turned his head away from the flask, gripping a handful of Horatio’s hair and kissing him open-mouthed with the brandy still wet on his lips. Horatio lapped up every fiery drop, sucking the stuff from Archie’s lips and then swirling his tongue deep inside for more. Strong arms wound around his neck, pulling Horatio down to Archie’s side. Settling there, Horatio slid both arms around Archie’s warm body, growing giddy and drunk again too from the burning liquor he sucked from Archie’s tongue. 

But he was steady enough to hold onto the candle. Gently, he dragged it down Archie’s body, tickling his belly with the tapered tip and then rubbing the underside of Archie’s cock. Squirming, Archie giggled against his mouth, but then fell still when Horatio pressed the candle against his snug little entrance. Archie raised his knees, closing his eyes and clinging tighter with both arms. Horatio swallowed, his palm beginning to sweat, but with a little push he slid the thing inside his friend. 

It seemed to glide into Archie’s body, at least a little ways until Archie tensed again. But once Archie shifted and exhaled Horatio was able to push the thing inside a little more. He guided it just behind Archie’s balls, where he speculated the special spot must be, and hearing no cry of discomfort, began to gently slide the candle in and out. 

The friction set Archie aflame. He threw his head back with a long moan, his thighs shaking, pure pleasure sweeping over his features. Horatio grew hard at the sight, regretting that both his hands were occupied, wanting to stroke himself in time with Archie’s suddenly rapid breathing. But he concentrated on his task, working the candle a little faster, his own cock throbbing painfully from the way Archie squirmed and clung tight to his neck. 

“It’s almost like it’s you inside me,” Archie panted against Horatio’s mouth, his blue eyes feverishly bright, half delirious. “Tell me what it’d be like, if we could.” 

Horatio colored, his stomach knotting. He had to look away from the insanity of Archie’s eyes. His friend was still scared under all that liquor and wanted to be talked to as Archie had talked to him. Horatio bit his lip, wishing he’d had more of the brandy – he would never get such indecencies out of his mouth otherwise – but he wanted Archie to relax and enjoy this. 

Drawing him a little closer, Horatio swallowed once and then kissed Archie softly on the mouth. “I would . . . I would be very careful, Archie. It wouldn’t hurt at all – not even for a moment.” He kissed Archie again, both their mouths hot, rubbing gently inside Archie’s body with the candle to demonstrate. Archie trembled, rolling his head toward him and muffling a moan into Horatio’s neck. Encouraged, excited, Horatio slipped his other hand under Archie’s arm, creeping his way over to a nipple and brushing the silky bud with his thumb. Archie’s whole body shuddered then, sweat shining on his forehead. “I would cover you in kisses first,” Horatio went on, wetting his lips, “and . . . and please you . . .” 

Archie’s eyes opened, his lashes tickling Horatio’s cheek. “With your mouth?” he rasped, his blue eyes hot and wicked. 

Sharp sensation raced through Horatio’s body, shocked and excited by the idea. His cock was hurting now. He could not resist grinding a little against Archie’s hip. “If that’s what you wanted. I would do what you wanted.” It did not matter whether that act was degrading or not; this was a fantasy and shame had no place in fantasies. “We would . . . I would . . .” He would lay Archie on his back, slid between his legs and . . . “I would find that spot inside you and then . . .” 

Horatio closed his eyes. He could almost feel it, the impossible heat of Archie’s body snug around his cock the way Archie felt snug around the candle now. He would thrust into that heat just as he was thrusting now and Archie would wrap his legs around him, shudder, and cry out, and there would be no Articles, no nooses or consequences, no liquor to work up their nerve. Horatio ground himself harder against Archie’s hip, moving the thing inside Archie with more urgency. He wanted to bugger him. God damn it, his cock was begging to fuck his best friend. 

“Would you kiss me while we did it?” Archie asked so quietly that Horatio almost did not hear him. He hastened to nod, fighting down his own frustration and exhaling sharply into the hot air between them. 

“Of course. Of course. For as long as you like. I would do what you want.” 

Raw emotion welled up in him, though Horatio did not know why. He kissed Archie hard and shamelessly with the force of it. Archie’s response was equally shameless. He slid a hand down his own body, grasping his prick and stroking at himself while Horatio worked him in a steady rhythm. He thrashed around on the bed with his legs spread, moaning, “Horatio . . . Horatio . . .” as though it were he touching him, and then, “Do it now.” 

Biting down hard on his lower lip, Horatio shook his head. God help him, he wanted to. They were alone. Who would know? But he could not, not now. “Next time. I promise, Archie. Next time, and nevermind the Articles. I want you.” Putting it off was better; he would be ready next time, somehow. They both would be. 

Archie only groaned, barely in control of himself now. He jerked harder at himself and then began shuddering more violently than before, his features twisting, swept with color. Horatio stared, transfixed, realizing that Archie was climaxing. Archie’s cock shot a white mess onto his stomach and then he lay limp, heaving and gulping for air. 

Horatio’s hand finally stopped moving, sore and sweaty. He pulled the candle from Archie’s body and tossed it aside, relieved to have a hand free at last. He gripped his own cock with his eyes closed, ridding himself of the painful pressure there. It took only a few strokes, his palm slick and his head spinning with the idea of taking Archie. He felt lighter once his seed spurted out of him, freed of those beguiling images and able to lay content on his back after catching his breath. 

After a moment, he turned to Archie, who was lying back with his eyes closed, completely spent. He would sleep the whole night, no doubt, sated and exhausted. “All right?” Horatio asked, receiving a tired nod for answer. Then his eyes fell on the candle again and he frowned a little. “I’ll see to this,” he said. They could not afford to leave behind any trace of what they had done in this room together. They had only dodged the letter of the law after all, and had as good as buggered one another in their minds. 

He rose and crossed the room, washing the thing in the shaving basin and drying it fastidiously. When he came back to bed he brought the washrag with him, wiping the sticky mess from Archie’s skin. The cool water sobered Archie a little; he reached over and lifted the brandy flask beside the bed. 

“Do you want to finish this? There’s only a little left.” 

Horatio shook his head, climbing under the covers. “We might need it for the morning, Archie,” he said, fearing they would not be able to look one another in the eye tomorrow after what they had done tonight. He then wondered how they would look one another in the eye next time, after doing what he had promised. Drawing an unsteady breath, Horatio shut his eyes, wanting to reach for the liquor already.


	2. Promises

Ferrol had not felt like a reunion at first, with Archie so bitter and despondent, as though   
faced with an enemy and not a friend – more than a friend – but slowly all that had   
melted. Archie had returned with him to their tiny cell where they would wait out the rest   
of the war if they were not exchanged first.

The storm they had braved rescuing the survivors of the Almaria had stirred up again. The wind howled outside, too loudly for either of them to sleep, blowing in gusts of icy rain through the window. Horatio stared across the cell at his friend on the single lower bunk; in this weather Archie could not possibly be comfortable down there. 

“Why don’t you come up here, Archie?” Horatio patted the space beside him on the upper bunk. “You’re getting wet.” 

The darkness made it difficult to see, but Horatio thought he spied a fleeting smile when Archie turned toward him. His smiles were few and far between these days, and tonight he had been in one of his quiet moods; Horatio was glad to snap him out of it before he drifted off into melancholy and went entire hours without speaking. 

But the wind and rain must have been too unbearable even for brooding; Archie quickly sat up and slid out of the blankets. “I suppose I could,” he said, crossing the room to climb up onto Horatio’s bunk. 

When Archie came close enough, Horatio could see how tired he was, his shoulders sagging and his face pale. He was still ill, in more ways than one, and had drained what strength he had regained in the rescue. Horatio inched toward the wall, offering Archie what little space he could on the narrow bunk so that he might lie down. Rest was vital for him. 

“Better?” he asked when Archie stretched on his back beside him, his arms folded across his broad chest. He certainly did not look at ease, keeping to his side of the bunk as though wary of lying too close, watching the ceiling in the dark. For a long moment Horatio doubted Archie had even heard him. But eventually he sighed. 

“Dryer, anyway.” 

Pulling himself to his knees, Horatio looked over his friend, resting a hand against the top of his head. “Archie, are you all right?” 

He knew he would have to take care of Archie until he was better – Horatio did not mind that – but he did not know how much care was wanted, especially when Archie tried so hard to pretend nothing was wrong. He had told the truth about Simpson in the infirmary at least, and Horatio had sobbed stupidly then, both out of disbelief that any man could be monster enough to do such a thing and because he had been too stupid to discern the truth for himself. Archie had accepted his attempts at comfort that night, but they had not spoken further on the subject. Horatio wondered if Archie was thinking of it now, or whenever else he fell silent and distant. 

“Just cold,” Archie told him, folding his arms tighter. 

“Well, damn it, why didn’t you bring the blanket?” 

They had only been given apiece, and the night was colder than any they had endured yet. Archie would only fall ill again if he did not take care of himself. They needed hot baths and warm meat, but only cold wash-water and cooling soup were provided in this place. Better not to skimp on what warmth they had. 

“Here.” Horatio crawled over Archie and hopped down, snatching the blanket from Archie’s bunk as well as the one from the empty bed beneath his own. Archie was sitting up when he climbed back beside him, and so Horatio wrapped one of the blankets around his body, smothering the chill. “How’s that?” 

He draped the other blanket over his own shoulders, sitting behind Archie where both their feet dangled over the bunk’s edge. This close, he could see Archie clenching his jaw and feel him shivering against him. Horatio wriggled his hands free, rubbing vigorously at Archie’s shoulders and arms with the wool, soaking up the fine raindrops the wind had blown into his nightclothes. 

Archie only sighed, presumably with relief, leaning back against Horatio’s chest and letting him work the water away. He fell silent again, staring down at the window where the wind and rain swept in. After a long pause he wet his lips and spoke without turning around. 

“I wonder what’s happening at home. I suppose they’re all in the drawing room by the fire, my brothers and sisters. I don’t doubt they’ve forgotten me.” 

“Archie . . .” Horatio’s hands halted on Archie’s shoulders. “That can’t be true, man, not of your own flesh and blood.” No doubt Archie’s family was in a state of deep grief, particularly the women, who had faithfully sent him packages at sea along with his father’s money. It was cruel of Archie not to write them and tell him he was alive. 

But Archie only shook his head, and looking down at his lap he said even more quietly, “I feared you’d done the same.” 

Horatio’s fingers tightened, mildly angry that Archie could think he meant so little to him. “Archie, not a day went by these past two years that you didn’t enter into my thoughts. I could scarcely go below decks without thinking of places we’d snuck off to.” 

Initially those thoughts had brought shame, and then longing, and then something heavy and oppressive that he could not understand. Archie had haunted him, even on that plague ship with Bunting, who also grieved for the loss of his dear friend – the maggot in their pasts that would happily devour their futures. It was insulting to hear that Archie could believe otherwise. At the very least, did Archie think he felt no remorse at all for striking him on the head with that tiller? Guilt had haunted him more than anything. 

“It’s a new year, Horatio,” Archie brushed off the subject with what Horatio assumed was false cheer. “Perhaps things will be different, for both of us.” He looked up this time, turning to give Horatio a small smile over his shoulder. Dear God, Archie’s moods of late were as variable as the winds at sea. But he was right; it was the first of January, nearly three years since they had met. It had rained that day as well. The memory pained him, but Horatio was glad to hear Archie speak of new beginnings. 

“Aye.” Horatio took advantage of the moment and began running his hands over Archie’s shoulders, stroking up and back over the broad curves through the blanket. “I endeavor to lead you into no further misery,” he said dryly. God knew Archie had suffered enough at his hand, struck during the Papillon raid and then sent back to prison in the name of his honor. It was a wonder Archie did not despise him. But Horatio could not even bear the thought; he leaned closer and put his cheek to Archie’s. “Do you remember how we used to kiss?” 

Archie tensed, but Horatio slid his arms around him from behind before Archie could edge away, drawing him back against his chest. It hurt, the way Archie had behaved as though he had forgotten, as though it had never happened, until Horatio had begun to wonder if Archie’d had a woman in England all along and that dalliances between men really meant nothing to him or were at best a thing of youth to be put aside now that they were older. Archie had never said anything of the kind, but when their reunion had not been joyful as it should have been Horatio began to wonder if Archie was ashamed of those old affections, particularly in light of Simpson. The fear of being shut out, of being lumped with something brutal and disgusting had hurt worse than seeing Archie weak and sick. Worse still, Horatio feared being left behind in another despairing suicide attempt. That Archie had even considering doing so had hurt most of all. 

“Yes . . .” Archie finally said, without moving closer or pulling away. He was so still. Horatio swallowed, attempting to gather the courage to continue. 

“Do you remember how we wanted each other?” He leaned down and pressed his lips to Archie’s jaw, kissing gently there. The gesture felt painfully tentative compared to the abandon of their youth, when they had crouched below decks with their hands tangled in one another’s hair, both so eager. Archie did not even turn to face him now, to kiss his mouth as he had so often done before. He simply sat there. 

“You were afraid,” Archie reminded him after a moment, in the same quiet voice. Horatio supposed the subject was awkward for him too, particularly if their illicit relations were something he would rather put behind him, yet the remark stung; Horatio could never abide being thought of as a coward. But it was true; he had feared the consequences and they had in truth done little more than kiss, despite how Archie had asked for more. 

“Indeed, and I resented it,” he conceded. “It would have been nice to know I’d made you happy once, eh Archie?” He forced a smile, but his bitterness echoed through his words. He had done Archie so much harm, from saving Simpson from the sea to leading Archie back here; one bright secret moment could have made all the difference where his conscience was concerned, God and the Articles be damned. 

Archie shook his head again, his voice choked. “Horatio, it isn’t like that.” Like what? Horatio frowned. Archie could not claim that he had done anything but hate him these past years. Horatio refused to believe it. 

But he wanted to believe it, and that making love with him could change things, showing what he felt in a way his words and other actions had not. He had to know there was some hope for them, that this great gap of two years could be bridged, and that they might regain the closeness they’d had before 

“Archie, look at me.” He cupped his friend’s cheek in one hand, turning his face toward him. Archie’s eyes went wide, shining in the moonlight, and he swept his tongue over his lips, nervous too. Horatio swallowed, taking a little comfort in that. “I’ve missed you.” The plain words sounded odd and inadequate – pined and mourned was more like it – but they were the only words that came out. 

“And I you.” Archie seemed to brighten nonetheless, turning all the way to face him. “I must be in love with you; I’ve gone half mad.” 

Horatio’s chest tightened. He had thought receiving his commission to be the highest honor in the world, but there was nothing solemn in his heart now. He felt giddy and elated. “I feel the same. I’m certain of it.” Some might call that a sin, but he had no time for the superstitions of men and hoped Archie did not either. If there was a god, He had brought them together knowing what was in their hearts. 

“What?” Archie tilted his head, his lips curving into a mischievous smile. “No portside mistresses?” He snuck a hand free of the blanket, reaching up to touch Horatio’s cheek. 

Horatio shook his head, his skin heating despite himself. “Did you suppose for one moment that I would think to replace you? I didn’t even try.” 

Archie said nothing, only continued to stroke his cheek, his expression turning tender. Instinctively, Horatio leaned into his touch, closing his eyes and nearly shuddering with relief when Archie’s mouth found his. It was like taking nourishment again after a famine. He remembered how hungrily Archie used to kiss him and found it was his turn to do so now. His fingers threaded in Archie’s hair, pulling him closer, his other arm sliding around Archie’s back so that he would not slide off the bunk. 

When they could not breathe anymore, Archie pulled back, looking up at him with bright eyes. “You’re not frightened now?” 

Horatio shook his head again, wrapping his arms around Archie’s waist and sliding back against the wall, pulling Archie with them. “I should hope I know better than to take good fortune for granted, Archie.” They had not been brought back together in such an unlikely fashion for him to be skittish. 

Sliding both arms around Horatio’s neck, Archie found his mouth again, kissing him as though to grind away all the distance and uncertainty of the past years. Horatio parted his lips for Archie’s tongue, signifying surrender, and after a long giddy moment of exploring his mouth, Archie’s arms tightened, pulling Horatio down on top of him on the bunk in a surrender of his own. 

A hundred lurid thoughts swam through Horatio’s head – all the things he longed to do to the panting, throbbing body beneath him – but he remained crouched over Archie on all fours, unsure of what Archie wanted. Archie took the matter from him, gathering the hem of his own nightshirt and slowly peeling it back, revealing the bare flesh of his thighs above the line of his stockings and then his loins and his swollen manhood curling back against his stomach. 

Horatio looked up into Archie’s face, waiting. Archie pulled him down flush onto his body. The heat overwhelmed him, Archie’s hard flesh against his flesh where he lay nestled between Archie’s legs. He could not resist sliding a hand to Archie’s hip, running his palm up the back of his thigh. Archie quivered and they began to rub together, his breath hot against Horatio’s neck. 

“Remember how we wanted to bugger each other?” Archie panted in his ear, clutching his shoulders tight as their bodies found a rhythm. 

Horatio nodded, stilling to catch his breath. “I promised to do what you wanted.” 

The memory of that night inflamed them both; they ground together more urgently, heaving and clutching, until Archie finally whispered, “Put it inside me.” 

Horatio could not help but chuckle against Archie’s mouth, his blood too hot for embarrassment by such bluntness now. He kissed behind Archie’s ear and muttered, “Put it inside _me_ ,” attempting to roll onto his back and pull Archie on top of him. He could feel Archie hard against his belly and could only remember the pleasure they had discovered once as mids, though never with Archie inside him. He wanted that now; he had always wanted that. But Archie held him fast against his body, keeping him where he was. 

“I asked first.” 

“Greed is a sin,” Horatio retorted, nuzzling at his warm, supple neck. 

Archie snorted. “So is buggery.” 

They kissed again to silence one another. Horatio’s tongue slipped between Archie’s lips, tasting the heat inside him. Archie’s hold loosened and they moved together gently now, gliding where they had begun to sweat. Horatio groaned with the friction, a pleasurable ache building between his legs. Archie’s loins were so hot beneath his own, silky and pounding, and he was even hotter in the cleft of his arse, where Horatio’s cock slipped and pressed, begging to be inside him. 

It would have been easy to do it, grit his teeth and push inside. Archie wanted it. But they could not, not tonight anyway. “We don’t have any oil or ointment. I promised it wouldn’t hurt.” That promise was more important than his promise to give him pleasure. Simpson had hurt Archie enough. 

In the darkness, he saw Archie nod in understanding, yet Horatio could still sense his disappointment. No doubt Archie thought him a coward again, too afraid to take the risk. But Horatio would make it up to him. He would ask for a salve from the Commandant or something like it and give Archie what he wanted soon enough. For now he must relieve Archie’s dissappointment a little, as well as his own. 

Rolling slightly to one side, Horatio began mouthing down Archie’s neck. Archie tipped his head back, exposing his throat. Horatio kissed there too, one hand roaming down Archie’s chest, brushing the gold hair there and gently caressing a nipple until Archie curved up from the bed and quivered. Horatio paused in his kissing to smile at him. 

“I never got to touch you the way I wanted,” he murmured, his hand creeping down to Archie’s belly and then lower, until he dared to curl his fingers around Archie’s hard prick, squeezing the length as his hand moved tentatively up and back. “Does it feel good?” he leaned close and asked. 

Archie groaned, pushing himself tighter into Horatio’s hand. “I’d forgotten what pleasure was like.” 

Yes pleasure, he had promised Archie pleasure, both before and while he took him. He wanted to give it now. “There was something else you wanted, Archie,” he said in Archie’s ear, and then slid down between Archie’s legs to make clear what he meant. He could hear Archie breathing faster above him, aroused and expectant, spreading his thighs a little. Horatio smiled that Archie would be so trusting, smiled to be wanted so, and carefully put his mouth to Archie’s erect flesh. 

He tasted salty, but not unpleasant. Horatio brushed his lips tentatively over the moist tip, without the slightest knowledge of what to do, only encouraged by the fact that Archie did not tell him to stop. He nuzzled the underside with his long nose, planting a kiss along the length of him, and then moved back up, knowing he had to do the job in earnest. 

Archie cried out when he closed his lips around the head and began to suck at him. Then he sat up. “Wait.” 

Horatio lifted his head, fearing he had done something wrong. But Archie only curled around so that his head was near Horatio’s lap. He reached out, lifting up the hem of Horatio’s nightshirt and taking him in hand, stroking the pounding flesh with his fingertips. Horatio sucked in a breath; he had never been touched there by anyone but himself and Archie’s gentle fingers felt wonderfully exquisite. 

But then Archie leaned closer, warm breath tickling Horatio’s thigh. Silky wet heat scorched the tip of Horatio’s cock and them a playful tongue. Horatio nearly jumped, the pleasure singing through his body, but then he understood what Archie meant for them to do and followed his friend’s lead. 

Archie swallowed the length of him and Horatio did the same. They suckled at each other, hungry and eager, giving and taking pleasure in a rhythm that was perfectly matched at first but then became rushed and erratic as though they were racing to bring the other off first. 

They reached their limit more or less at the same time. Horatio tried to pull away to keep from spilling in his friend’s mouth, but Archie’s grip on the back of his thigh was too tight. He was not sure he could have withdrawn himself from the sweet heaven of Archie’s mouth in any case, and spent himself in spasms just as Archie spilled over in a warm, salty rush down his throat. 

Horatio felt drained and sluggish when every drop of pleasure had been wrung from him. He rolled onto his back in his corner of the bed, catching his breath, his vision dusted with bright dizzy flecks. Archie was breathing just as heavily, but did not lie down beside him. Horatio patted his knee where Archie knelt on the blankets and grinned up at him. 

“Don’t ever claim you’ve no head for tactics, Archie.” He had never thought they could take pleasure together without one being inside the other. But then again he was wholly ignorant when it came to matters of the flesh. 

Archie chuckled. “I suppose I have my uses.” 

“Enough of that,” Horatio chided; he could not stand to hear Archie disparage himself. “Come and get warm,” he suggested instead, straightening the rumpled blankets and spreading them one on top the other. Three ought to keep the cold out well enough. He climbed under them and pulled the edge back for Archie to do the same. 

Settling in behind him, Archie slid his arms around Horatio’s waist, curling tight against his back. “Do you mind?” he asked after a moment, cuddling closer and kissing the back of Horatio’s neck just above the collar of his nightshirt. 

Horatio shivered with the delicate caress, his body tingling still from the sweet hot ecstasy of Archie’s silky mouth. He had never dreamed anything could feel so wonderful. But the warmth of Archie’s body against him now felt deliciously wonderful in its own way. “Of course not,” he said, taking up Archie’s hand and holding it against his chest, over his heart. 

Sighing, Archie laid his head against the back of Horatio’s shoulder, the rhythm of his breathing even and relaxed. Horatio thought he would drift off right to sleep, but after a moment Archie began running a light hand over Horatio’s chest, quoting softly in his ear. 

“’I have bought the mansion of a love. But not possessed it,” he murmured. “’And though I am sold, not yet enjoyed.’” 

Horatio caught Archie’s hand and squeezed it. “We will, Archie,” he promised, unfamiliar with the lines but understanding exactly what Archie meant. “I just want it to be good.” 

“It’ll be good.” Archie sounded so certain, wrapping his arms tighter. “I love you.” 

A surge of warmth swept through Horatio’s body. “I love you.” He brought Archie’s hand to his lips and kissed it and then drew the blankets up to his chin, covering them both. The wind and rain could blow in with as much force as it might. He was warm in his lover’s arms again, at peace for the first time in years.


	3. January

They had given Archie opium, but the Commodore’s physician friend had feared he   
would bleed to death before the drug could take full effect. Archie had woken before they   
had begun the gruesome work at hand – he had only lost consciousness from the blood   
loss, the physician had said – his features whitening, twisting into a rictus as the knife cut   
into him. Blood still trickled from his lip where he had bitten it through. For his part,   
Horatio had felt the burn of that knife as though it had cut into his own body. It had taken   
all his strength not to be sick on the floor.

Archie’s face was still white now, drenched in sweat as the doctor groped for the bullet. Horatio tried not to look at the open, festering wound, the doctor’s bloodstained hands, or the new red-smeared incision; he kept his eyes on Archie’s contorted face, his palms wet where he held Archie’s shoulders down from behind. The sickness in his belly shamed him, being afraid to look; if Archie had to endure the pain and had almost died for him then he should at least have to face the gory reality before him. It was better than the alternative, better than –. Horatio clenched his jaw, fighting back the thought. 

The physician’s assistants held Archie’s arms. Both their faces were grim, but neither appeared as near to being sick as he. Horatio swallowed hard to try and calm himself, in a cold sweat beneath his uniform. He had seen a guillotining and he had seen men blown to bits. This was no worse. What was more, it was dangerous to appear overly solicitous toward Archie in front of the others. 

The doctor’s hand moved again. Archie let out a small groan but quickly bit his broken lip to hold in a full cry of pain. How he kept from roaring in pure agony, Horatio did not know. But then he went as white as the sheet half covering him. His eyes rolled back and his head rolled toward Horatio’s hand. He went limp. Horatio’s chest tightened. He opened his mouth to call out to him, but nothing would come out. His fingers moved over Archie’s bare shoulders, searching for a pulse, but he found nothing. Horatio closed his eyes, the nearest thing to a prayer racing through his mind. The room began to spin around him. 

“I’ve got it!” the physician declared, pulling his red-stained hand away from the incision and holding out the pistol ball half wrapped in a piece of bloodstained uniform. “The source of the infection,” the man said, tossing it aside. “Now we cut away what the maggots haven’t eaten and sew him up.” 

Horatio stared at the doctor numbly. He seemed kindly and competent enough – the Commodore claimed the man had saved his life once – and more importantly, he was Archie’s only hope. But Archie was not moving and the doctor did not seem concerned. 

Damning what the others thought, Horatio sank to his knees, resting his head against Archie’s. He could not bear losing him now, not after his grief had been lifted by a precious glimmer of hope. But he could hear Archie breathing, softly; Archie had only passed out from the pain. Relief flooded him; Horatio let out the breath he had been holding, raising his face toward the sky and thanking God despite himself. Yet he remained on his knees, his cheek pressed to Archie’s sweat-drenched golden hair. He wanted Archie to know that he was there still. 

Archie did not wake throughout the rest of the procedure. The doctor cleaned where the bullet had been, stitched the incision, and then wrapped a tight bandage around Archie’s middle. Horatio succumbed to his weak belly when it was over; he turned and emptied his stomach in a bucket, sure that the messy cutting and Archie’s contorted features would haunt him for a long time. 

After wiping the sweat from Archie’s face, they covered him in a sheet and gently slid him onto a litter, where he would pass for merely the corpse Captain Hornblower intended to stow aboard Retribution in order to return him to the Kennedys for burial. Commodore Pellew had officially granted that privilege. 

They did not receive so much as a strange look as they left the infirmary and walked the short distance to the doctor’s little home, where he and Archie would stay for the first night so Archie might be closely looked after. Retribution’s repairs would take a week, and in the meantime the Commodore had a relative by marriage in town who would take them in, ignorant of Archie’s true identity, of course. 

When they reached the house, they brought Archie into the tiny spare bedroom. The room had no hearth, but there was no need to worry about cold in the infernal Jamaican heat. Instead, the narrow bed was covered in mosquito netting to keep the insects out. They laid Archie beneath the airy canopy and after a final look the physician and his assistants departed with a promise to return after Archie took some rest. 

Horatio exhaled in relief when the door closed behind him. The last few hours had passed like a fever dream. Commodore Pellew had come with his promotion and the more private news that Archie was still alive before Horatio had even had the chance to comprehend the void Archie’s death had left inside him. The intensity of that pain gnawed at him though beneath the exhaustion and disbelief, stark panic that he had come so close to losing him. Horatio’s heart would freeze each time he tried to think on it, and so he had stumbled numbly through the past hours, pushing the notion from his thoughts. But now full awareness hit him, both the joy and fear. 

There was a chair by the bed, but Horatio did not take it. He shrugged out of his jacket and hung it there and then slipped out of his shoes, climbing carefully in the bed beside Archie. Sliding close against his friend’s good side, Horatio sat up against the headboard, draping an arm behind Archie’s shoulders, stroking his soft gold hair and laying his free hand upon Archie’s breast, simply to feel the steady rhythm of his heart – all that he had been afraid to touch during that nightmarish farewell in the infirmary. Archie was still gravely sick, but alive and strong. Alive. 

Archie’s lids fluttered after a short while. He tried to turn, but Horatio held him steady by the shoulders. Too weak to wriggle free, he tentatively opened his eyes, searching the room in a daze. “Horatio . . .?” His voice was thin and hoarse. 

“I’m here.” Horatio cupped his cheek, tilting Archie’s up face so that he could see him. Archie blinked several times, no doubt scarcely able to tell up from down through the opium’s malaise, but after a moment his blue eyes focused and his features relaxed into a smile. He sighed and leaned his head against Horatio’s side. 

“Where are we?” 

Horatio cleared his throat, hoping to sound cheerful. “At the residence of an esteemed friend of Commodore Pellew’s – the doctor’s, Archie,” he added when the first bit did not seem to register. 

Archie made a small miserable sound and then rolled his head back onto the pillow again. It would be just like Archie to be restless even now. “I feel worse than before,” he muttered. “I never liked laudanum.” 

Frowning, Horatio pushed the sheet down a little. Perhaps Archie was too warm. He was not sweating, but his forehead was hot where Horatio pushed the hair back from his face. The fever from the infection had not broken yet. “At least you aren’t in pain.” That was a small miracle; Archie had spent the past week refusing Clive’s laudanum, stubbornly determined to face the end with a clear head. More plainly, Archie had been too sick with worry over how he would fare at the trial to let himself rest. Horatio’s frown deepened. He was unworthy of all that worry. 

“No,” Archie shook his head. “But I feel so sick.” 

Horatio’s arm tightened around Archie’s neck in a surge of protectiveness. Archie was stubborn about admitting to his ailments, and in the infirmary had been so brave and strong. It had all been for his sake, Horatio knew, and he was relieved to see Archie shed that burden now. Archie did not have to be strong anymore; Horatio was there to take care of him. 

“You’ll get better.” He reached for Archie’s hand, caressing the back of it. There was still the danger of infection, but Horatio refused to consider that. 

Smiling at the touch, Archie brought Horatio’s hand up to his cheek, cradling it there was a small, content smile. Horatio chuckled. The opium must have made him childlike; Archie was ordinarily more sophisticated in demonstrating his affections. “And then what?” Archie asked after a moment, looking up into Horatio’s eyes. 

Horatio smoothed Archie’s hair with his other hand. “I’m taking you home, Archie. Retribution will be ready in a few days time and we’ll set sail for England. I’m sure I can pass you off as some nobleman or another, eh Archie?” He forced a smile he hoped was encouraging – in truth he worried over how well the deception would work – but that smile faded when Archie’s expression tensed. 

“I don’t want to part in England, Horatio.” His fingers tightened around Horatio’s hand. 

“Archie . . .” Horatio swallowed. He could not bear to see Archie submerse himself in yet another worry. Archie needed all his strength to get better. What was more, Archie insulted his honor by even _thinking_ he would leave him now. But Horatio would not argue with Archie in his condition and therefore went on patiently. “There’s nothing to fear, Archie. If Commodore Pellew can give me no hope of clearing your name when we reach England then I’ll resign my commission. I wouldn’t want it otherwise.” 

Accepting his promotion would be dishonor, as bad as declaring Archie guilty with his own mouth, and he wanted little part of a Navy that would hang officers who had saved the lives of eight hundred men, that had a tainted notion of duty. 

“Does Pellew know? He won’t take well to ultimatums.” 

Horatio blinked. He had not meant it as such. “No. I’ll tell him before we set sail.” He had little hope Pellew would succeed, or even want to try, but he thought it fair to give him the chance. But Horatio did not want Archie to fret over it now. He did not want to think of Kingston or the _Renown_ or the future at all. “Just rest, Archie,” he said, his fingers still in Archie’s hair. “In any case, the consequences of this mess are ours to share. I’d never leave you.” 

Worry crumbled then, for the moment at least, and only the desire to be close to one another remained. Archie let out a sigh, still holding Horatio’s hand against his cheek. “I was afraid for you,” he said softly after a moment, “afraid of what would become of you after . . .” 

“I know.” Horatio stopped him before could finish. He did not want to think on what had almost happened; he would rather treat it as nothing more than a harrowing dream. 

Archie’s eyes fell closed and he was quiet for a time, growing drowsy again. Horatio tried to tug his hand free – it would not do for the doctor to see them clinging to each other – but Archie’s grip tightened, refusing to let go. He looked up at Horatio through his lashes and wet his lips. “I didn’t want to leave you.” His voice broke on the last word. _“Darling, _please_ . . .” Horatio’s other hand tightened involuntarily in Archie’s hair. A lump rose in his throat. He could still see Archie standing in the courtroom in the custody of the marines. The pain and disbelief welled up in all over again, the fear that Archie really had gotten better only to be dragged to the noose. Horatio’s eyes stung; he could not bear it. “Archie, what you’ve done for me, I . . .” _

He could not finish; there were no words to properly convey how Archie’s sacrifice had humbled him. He simply tugged his hand free and cupped his cheek, tilting Archie’s face toward his. Their mouth met lazily, tiredly, melting away the lingering panic and grief, and when Horatio pulled back he felt a little more at ease. 

A little out of breath, Archie reached up to playfully tap the end of Horatio’s long nose, grinning groggily at him. “I’m sure you’ll make up for it.” His half-open eyes brightened with the first spark of mischief Horatio had seen in him for a week now. 

Horatio shook his head. “It’ll be a long time before you’re well enough for that.” He grinned back down at Archie nonetheless. He had such fond memories of lying with him. But Archie’s wound would likely take more than a month to heal. They could not afford to take the risk too soon. 

Yet Archie continued to smile, his lids drooping wearily. He leaned as close as he could against Horatio’s side without actually moving. “I can’t wait,” he murmured, “even if it’s only a few moments in your cabin.” 

The privacy of a captain’s cabin would certainly be an advantage; they would not have to worry so much about being discovered. But Horatio did not want their first time together after this nightmare to be so rushed and crude. “I should think it would be better than that,” he said gently. “Perhaps in a nice room ashore, with a fire . . . ” 

Sighing wistfully, he propped an elbow behind Archie’s head, staring down at him. Archie always looked so beautiful in the firelight, his hair copper, his eyes blue gems, and his cheeks flushed. Even now, pale and miserable, he glowed golden. He looked even more beautiful whenever they took pleasure together, throwing his head back and parting his small pink lips. He was so sweet and so giving. 

“I want it to be raining,” Archie whispered after a moment, taking up Horatio’s hand again. 

Drawn from his reverie, Horatio blinked. “Why?” 

“It was raining when we met, Horatio.” Archie’s warm fingers threaded tenderly inside his. 

Yes, Horatio smiled. It had been an ugly and stormy January morning. He remembered staring out at Archie from across the water in that shoreboat, wondering how Archie could withstand the wet and cold so well. He had not known yet that Archie simply had a stout heart. 

“Very well,” he conceded. “The heavens will open mightily at the injustice done you here.” 

Archie snorted half-heartily, but it faded into a smile. “And we’ll be warm,” he said, running his fingertips along the inside of Horatio’s wrist, in the way that always made Horatio shiver when Archie did that along the rest of his body. 

“Yes, Archie,” Horatio sighed with the blissful idea of it all, leaning down to kiss Archie’s forehead. “Very, very warm indeed.” 

Sighing too, Archie closed his eyes. The same dreamy smile lingered about his lips that he had worn as a mid, lying in his hammock and spinning idle fantasies of having one another. They were older now; Horatio knew how to satisfy his whims and Archie knew how to satisfy his own. Tonight, those fancies went unsatisfied, put aside for a later time as they had so often then, but Horatio far from minded now. They were alive, had a future together, and a ship to sail them home.


End file.
